Stenches!
One of the advantages, and curses, of necromancy is that you become quite the connoisseur of stenches. Your nose becomes attuned to the differences between the various charnel bouquets, to the point where ghulmen are almost willing to admit that you might approach their level.
Unfortunately, oldmen do not get the ability to find rotting meat piquant. The best we can do is simply keep the thought of the smell away from our gorge. So when I sniffed the presence of recently-killed vermin coming from the local descent to the Antiquity, I did not enjoy the experience. Or if I did, it was the enjoyment of someone who had just literally sniffed out a trap.
“Hold!” I muttered to Curwin and Marsh, both of whom were there to give me some physical safety while I performed my exorcisms. I can defend myself, but not while staring into the Veil. “There is death ahead. Many small deaths.”
“Christ on His Throne,” Curwin muttered, blanching and crossing himself, and I hastened to correct him.
“Not small human deaths, Lieutenant. There are a great number of dead rats and squirrels in the passage ahead.” I sniffed. “A remarkable number of dead pigeons, too. They are just now starting to rot.”